This Is What I Said
by Vivalandra
Summary: ::One-shot/Dark fic:: This is a VERY mature fic that is in support for Montana Meth Project. After reading ParadiseAvenger's, I was inspired to make my own. ***WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS DRUG USAGE, ADULT LANGUAGE, RAPE AND SUICIDE. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS, REFRAIN FROM THIS FIC.***


This is a **Meth Awareness** one-shot. I've read ParadiseAvenger's "Not Even Once" fanfic and it was amazing. It was incredibly detailed and spot-on when it came to the dangers of meth use and it was so beautiful. The endings were beautiful too. I read all of them.

YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST GO TO THIS WEBSITE:

 **www. montanameth .org**

If you're too lazy to remove the spaces, go to my profile and I'll have a link provided.

I don't want to be a copy-cat, so I'm going to try to stick with one ending. It may or may not be a good one, but once I start writing, I'm hoping I'll have more of a clear outlook on that.

...

 _This is where they had their first kiss._

The top of the hill right outside of Amity Park, far off in the distance, away from the loud, obnoxious sounds of honking horns and the smell of polluted air thanks to many cars letting off carbon monoxide. The oak tree still stands tall, its beautiful green leaves dancing softly in the air. The grass is healthy - plush. The area-untouched. Nobody ever goes up there anymore… nobody.

 _This is where he made his promise._

The lights of The Nasty Burger sign are only half-lit. The bulbs have long burnt-out, and nobody had the time or the initiative to change them. The place, once pulsing with energy, was now nothing but a run-down building for gang members to practice graffiti. Young teenagers used to bust in and out of the main doors, simply looking for a getaway - a place to go when everything else seemed to have failed them. All kids enjoyed going there, all except for two.

 _This is where he was first introduced to it._

Under the bleachers of Casper High School, in the after-hours of school. The bleachers are a secure place, concealing even the most darkest of events. Anything can go on down there, _anything._ And nobody would be any the wiser. The bleachers above are facing the football field, where tall field lights stand and the crowd that would be in its place would roar with excitement at the school's football team.

Anything can go on down there, _anything._

 _This is where she found him picking imaginary bugs out of his skin._

His parents didn't know; he never told them, just his friends. His bedroom was decorated in "astronomical propaganda" - posters titled "How to Be an Astronaut" and "Become N.A.S.A.-tranomical!". His blue walls caused the human mind to let of endorphins when their eye meets it, but it wasn't enough to keep him away from the alternatives. It was connected to a bathroom area, three counters connected together, a sink built into the middle one. It was spotless, just as he had always kept it. Everything was spotless…

Everything…

Everything except for the blood.

 _This is where he had attacked them._

The mansion is now silent. Barely anyone really talks here anymore. Judging by everything that's happened, it'd be understandable. The movie theater area in the basement of the place where it was alright to just sit down to a simple chick flick or horror film or cinematic drama. The room was big, very big. There could've been many places to go other than there. Many places…

 _This is where he had raped her._

The little park where we'd all first met. It was nothing anymore, really. It was just rust. The chains of the swings let off squeaking sounds as the wind moved them back and forth. It was closed down for not being a very reliable place for children to play anymore. Part of me still misses it; it used to make us so happy - brought back so many beautiful memories. Now it's just painful to see… painful.

So painful after everything had gone down.

 _This is where he looked for the last resort._

The 99 gas station out on Sample St. We never really went around there a lot because a lot of junkies that would hang around the place. They would smokes and inject… and we would look off in disgust. The only reason we ever set foot in that place was because of the cheap snacks that you could get there. After that, we would quickly leave before we were offered anything we weren't keen to encounter.

 _And this is what she said when he told her he was going to try Meth._

As his best friend, her job was to protect him from harm, whether it be direct or not. She looked at him in shock, and she tried to find those words - the words that told him it was a bad road to travel on. But she couldn't say anything; she was so scared. She opened my mouth then closed it, and then she opened it again. She was supposed to say something to him. She was _supposed_ to stop him.

But she didn't say _anything._

She said nothing at all - silence.

X X X

The changes came slowly at first. Most of everyone didn't realize, or didn't care, and just accepted everything as they'd gone along. They all used to be full of life, not a care in the world. They were actually _excited_ for their futures. The only they had to worry about was courses and exams and whether or not they had to repeat the semester. They were scared to advance forward, but it was a _good_ kind of scared. They had to worry about their social lives with each other and whether or not they'd have the time to balance out high school _and_ their friendships. They had to worry about just being kids.

But then after that night, none of that mattered anymore.

When he changed, they _all changed._

Nothing was ever good; no one _ever_ experienced pleasure.

Everything was just terrible, disgusting, rotting, repulsing, awful, broken, empty, damaged…

Tucker was the only survivor. He continued to carry on - a way to tell a story, maybe.

Sam was an angel - a ghost of what once was actually her.

And Danny was dead. They were unaware if it was literal or not, but he wasn't here. He wasn't _him._

And maybe he was.

Danny was dead.

…

The sky was gorgeous. Nothing but broadened horizons and a quiet sunset had been present. Down below was the ceremony, where the citizens of Amity Park had created a memorial for him and his good deeds. He had missed it purposely just to take Sam away from the publicity, away from the paparazzi, 'cause God only knows there'd be a lot of it after what the trio had done for the entire human race, and even from their families. He was the hero; they were the sidekicks. At this point in time, life was good.

He slid the class ring onto her finger, telling her that had it not been for her, he wouldn't have been able to do the things he had done to get him to where he is now. Her wide amethyst eyes grew teary with joyfulness, his words touching her heart like a young child embracing their teddy bear. One thing led to another, and they engaged in a very passionate and loving kiss. It was moment that neither of them would forget. It was the start of something new and something big.

It wasn't just the sky that had broadened horizons that day.

…

It was an average afternoon, while stardust began to cloud the sky. Behind the horizon, the sun was starting to set. It had been around 6PM, and The Nasty Burger was still open for business. Through the front windows, Sam, Tucker and Danny were all seen sitting in a booth. Normally they hang out at the small diner earlier in the day, right after school time, but a ghost battle had gotten in the way of that. Now they're off on a late start, but this didn't really matter to them, so long as they got the time that they needed to spend with each other.

Sam was leaning her face into her hands, a blank expression aiding it, tilting her fork a little to the left then the right, playing with the spinach leaves in her salad. Tucker was chomping softly on a triple cheeseburger with mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, and so on and so forth. He was just as silent as Sam, not saying anything - just on his PDA, his mind sealed-off from the rest of the world. Danny, on the other hand, was studying for an upcoming make-up test that he had to take. While everyone else in the class had passed the test with flying colors, Danny had fallen asleep, causing his window of opportunity to close immediately. It wasn't his fault; ghost fighting was a lot of work and it got the best of him. But unfortunately, Lancer _had_ to still treat him as his pupil, even though everyone knew who he was.

He groaned through grit teeth and swatted the book aside, it clattering against the wall as he shook his head and let it crash onto the table. Sam and Tucker looked up in surprise. Tucker shook his shoulder lightly and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Danny, are you alright?" she asked with great concern drenched in her voice.

"Yeah… I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Dude, take it easy. It's a 100 question test that's only going to take you about two hours. It's really not that hard; it's just… agonizingly long," Tucker did his best to reassure him.

"I know it's not. In the end, all of these stupid exams and finals and whatnot are going to pay off… hopefully."

"They _will,"_ Sam gave him a light smile. "I promise you they will."

"It's easy for you to say, Sam," Danny lifted his head and shrugged Tucker's hand off to where it slid from his shoulder and to his side. "You're super smart! You're in _all honors_ classes and you can reach levels that I may never be able to reach. You'll graduate top of the class; I'll be at the bottom of the barrel."

"Danny, don't say that," Sam shook her head, the hair grazing each cheek with each swipe from side to side.

"Yeah, man. Take it easy. Who cares if you're not in honors classes? Just getting good grades in school _period_ is what's going to look good on your college application."

Danny's baby blue eyes searched Sam's amethyst ones and Tucker's turquoise ones. They had a point - though it did look good on a college resume to be in honors classes, that may not be _just_ what they're looking for. They're looking for integrity, hard work, dedication - Danny had all of that _and more._ He could do anything that he set him mind to, _anything._

As long as he believed that he could.

That means that he can get into any college, be whoever he wanted to be as an adult, and most of all, he could pass this stupid test.

It's no big deal at all.

"You're right, guys," Danny nodded fragilely. "I don't need to be superior in advanced classes just to make my way to good colleges and get on the path to a good career. All I need is to work hard to the best of my abilities with what I already have! I've got this!"

"That's the spirit, Danny!" Sam rooted.

"Nice, dude," Tucker grinned.

"You know what," Danny started, sitting up and adjusting himself comfortably in the booth. Sam picked up her fork once more and poked into a piece of lettuce, placing onto her tongue and softly chewing it. Tucker bit into his burger and set aside his PDA to lean in closer, listening for Danny's next words.

"I promise you guys, and myself, that I'm going to lead a perfect lifestyle. I'm going to be an astronaut and I'm going to go up into space and I'm going to see those stars, because _that's_ what I want to do. _That's_ my dream. And the only person that can stop me from having that dream is me, and I _won't_ let that happen."

"You're amazing, Danny," Sam chuckled. "I'm glad you're so optimistic."

"I have to be. If I'm not, then I won't have anything to fight for."

They were really proud of him. He had walked down the hard road in life, and he knew that he could've slacked, but he chose not to. It took real guts and real bravery to choose the road less taken. He had a dream that he wanted to fight for, and that was all that mattered. Looking at it from Sam and Tucker's perspective, Danny was fine. He was great. There was nothing wrong with him. It was going to take a lot of studying in order to increase the chances of him passing the test, but Danny wasn't stupid enough to sacrifice over studying a couple of chapters.

He had this.

Danny _had this._

…

The week after the incident at The Nasty Burger, Danny had come to school regularly looking like he was hit by a truck. The bags that had formed under his eyes to show lack of sleep had began getting heavier and heavier. He hadn't bothered to mess too much with his hair. To top it all off, Danny had become careless when it came to coming prepared for class. It was really hard to believe that just a week before he was ready to change his future.

But Tucker and Sam remembered that conversation; they can't act like it didn't happen when it did. At this moment, however, it were as if that conversation had just been a dream.

Sam and Tucker decided to confront him about why he had looked so filthy and unkempt, but Danny wouldn't have any of it. Come lunchtime, when they all sat together, they gave it one more try.

"It's just the stupid test. _And_ ghost fighting _and_ the fact that my sister is getting ready to leave for college soon. She got accepted into Harvard. What am I going to do once she's gone? I'll be stuck at home with my crazy parents!"

"Calm down, Danny. You're just under a lot of stress," Sam responded. "You need to just take a few deep breaths…"

"I've tried that, Sam! There's nothing that can relieve how much stress I'm under right now. At this point, I'm prepared to do whatever it takes for that to happen. I'm desperate; I have no choice."

"You just need more sleep, dude," Tucker tried to help Sam out.

"Maybe," he muttered, letting out a long, breathy sigh. He shook his head gradually, eyes closing, rubbing his face. Sam tightened her lips until they faded to white, gently going over to touch his available hand, the one left flat on the table. Right before she could, he moved it out of the way and brought his other hand down to raise himself from his seat. He glanced at his two friends, muttering "I'll be back" before turning off towards the doors to exit the cafeteria. Sam and Tucker casted their eyes towards each other, and then looked down towards the floor in unison. They had never seen Danny so rattled before. The boy could balance his problems like you'd never imagine… but this? This was bad. He was on the brink; Tucker knew it and Sam could feel it.

And there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

"I'm worried for him," she spoke softly.

"I am, too." Tucker frowned in response. "There's nothing we can do though…"

"I know."

Tucker's turquoise eyes gazed at her. "Do you love him?"

Sam's face began to burn up. She didn't look up. "Hm?"

"Danny - do you love him?"

"Of course I do."

"So why don't you tell him that?"

"Does he look in the position to know that right now? That'll just make everything… awkward. Besides, all of this stress has gotten to him _really bad._ He hasn't kissed me or hugged me… or touched me in any way whatsoever since our time up on the hill."

"It can't be that bad to just tell him how you feel," he shrugged.

"Trust me, Tuck," Sam rose to her feet, grabbing her tray, tiny bits of tofu left on the occupying her plate, "it is."

With that, she climbed over the seat and turned on her heels, starting towards the trash can. Tucker just leaned on his elbows, picking up one of his sausage links and taking a tiny bite, nibbling on it.

…

The last bell of the day rang obnoxiously all throughout the area of the high school, and bustling teenagers began flooding out of their classrooms, some heading to their lockers to grab their things; some tagging along with friends. Among the puddle of students escaping Mr. Hawking's class was Sam, clutching her books with both hands. As she looked off to the right, she saw Tucker waving for her to come over. In her peripheral vision she saw Danny slide right past her, and when she turned a little to get a good view of his face, he was slouching, trying to avoid her as he walked off, far away from his friends, away from the ones that cared about him.

Away from Sam.

Sam sighed as she turned and started to Tucker, who had one eyebrow raised. He was rather curious-Danny not talking to _Sam_ was a sign (he talked to her more than anyone, even Tucker himself). Not only because Sam was now his recent girlfriend and that's kind of his job, but also because from day one he's had the biggest emotional bond with her, bigger than with Tucker or even his parents. He's liked her from day one-hell, he's _loved_ her from day one, and on day one he barely even knew what love was. There was something rather weird about the atmosphere during that day, something peculiar, something you don't feel every day. Being there, you'd feel it too. Maybe it was the air they were breathing or maybe it was just the mood. Maybe it was because of the fact that sandbox love never dies.

Yep. Sandbox love may be put to rest, but it never dies.

Years later, here they were, stressing about school, their future, where they were going to go in life…

Oddly enough, Danny seemed to be the only one getting the short end of the stick. Why was that?

The teenage Goth had been so into thinking of Danny and why he was so flabbergasted about the stupid upcoming test that she hadn't noticed she had long since stopped right next to Tucker, who had cleared his throat to snatch her attention. To her surprise, she peeked up suddenly, twitching her fingers uncontrollably as her response.

"Did he say anything to you? Anything at all? Not even, like, a quick mumble as to where he was going?"

"No," she shook her head once more. Her voice had come out a bit tinier and squeakier than she had intended. She hated that. "No, he didn't say a word. He just walked right past me like he didn't even know who I was."

"I think this test is really fuckin' him up," the geeky boy stached a large textbook into his backpack and shut his locker door, turning the combination dial a couple of times to the right, and pulled out his PDA as he walked and talked with his fellow friend. "This isn't just a sign of stress anymore; for some reason, this test is really pushing him over the edge."

"It doesn't take a techno-geek to see that," she rolled her eyes, snaking out a sarcastic reply. Sam wasn't normally one to get sassy and back-talk people with sly remarks or rude comments, but maybe everything that's been going on was getting to her, too. It was like a virus-a contagion- with no amount way of slowing it down or fighting it with a cure. Danny passed off his negative attitude like a sneeze; now she's doing the same.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It wasn't you. Man, I don't know what's wrong. I'm sorry. It's just… Danny…"

"I know. I'm starting to miss him too. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever get him back."

Sam remained silent, because she knew there was nothing more to say. Tucker had already put it into words - they lost Danny. They wanted him back, but didn't seem to know where to begin. He was starting to isolate and distance himself from them, and they kept aimlessly reaching out to comfort him. It wasn't enough, it was never enough. They were just walls to him - blank, empty walls. No color to admire and nothing to hang upon it. They grew tired of being his doormat, free to be stepped on by him as much as he pleased. They grew weary of their feeble attempts of being there for him when he just passed them by, waving them off like a fly. No, there was nothing more to say. They're done trying to say _anything._

From then on out, if Danny wanted something, he'd have to go to _them._

…

Danny braced his palm outward, allowing his muscles to push the front doors of the school open to the outside world. He continued to make his way down the steps, his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes peeled at the ground before him. Listening to the sounds of nature made him take a deep breath and exhale slowly. It was quite relaxing, nature itself. Sam was the one who had gotten him into it. Some nights, when they weren't busy, he would fly to her house, where she was swept into his arms and hoisted off somewhere more magical, as he'd put it. And magical it was. Whether it was the little treetop where they had made their decision to push forward or the roof of a skyscraper. To Danny, there was no limit, and Sam didn't care, so long as he never let go. Of course, she trusted him; she knew he'd never let go. He remembered they would just sit by and count the stars, trying to make up stories within them and relying on those stories to determine their fate. Sometimes the stories were good; sometimes they were bad. Regardless, they treated each star as if it were a human being, with no mouths but a mind full of secrets; a voice but no way to use it. They never judged them or defied them, they opened their hearts and their minds and their ears and just _listened._ They knew that was the only way to understand what they were saying.

During the day, when there are no stars to count, Danny would hear the birds sing songs full of harmony. Since each bird had a different song, he reacted to each one a different way. Woodpeckers triggered a sort of anger within him (knock on wood), and red cardinals, which had often migrated from the inland north up to the state of New York, would give him a flushed sense of relief as he heard them. They were like many normal birds. They just wanted to sing a song without the intention of annoying a human being. But in a way, that could easily be compared to life.

Danny had been so caught up in his random thoughts that he almost didn't hear the whistle coming from the side of the school, right beneath the bleachers in front of the football field.

He pondered. Definitely wasn't a bird.

He turned his head to see Dash Baxter, standing there as if he were waiting for someone. Probably Paulina Sanchez, the Latina beauty every guy is madly in love with, to which was also Dash's girlfriend. If that were the sole purpose of him being there, why get Danny's attention out of anyone else's?

Dash and Danny weren't exactly simpatico. It had nothing to do with jealousy or anything of the sort - Dash was just a mighty big guy, quarterback of the football team and a flat-out meat-head. If there was anyone that [Danny felt] was stupider than him, it was Dash. All he knew how to do was shove people into their own lockers and catch a football.

So what was he doing now?

Danny decided to bypass his gesture, thinking that he may have been ushering someone else. But as he started to turn away, he heard Dash call out, "Fenton!"

Yep. Dash was definitely calling them.

Danny took a deep breath and turned on his heels, stepping over to the bleachers to face the jock one-to-one. When he stopped in front of him, he expected him to hit him the face. He was shocked to see that he didn't. Instead, he pulled out a little bag from his back pocket that had small white-looking rocks in it. Danny's eyes darted up to Dash's, who smirked lightly.

"Heard you were having a bit of a stress problem," he muttered so that only the scrawny teenager before him could listen in.

"What is that?" Danny's eyebrow raised in suspicion, eyeing the bag skeptically.

"Crystal," Dash sniffed as if the air around him were thickening. Maybe it was. Or it could've been the mood.

"Crystal? As in… meth?" Danny's voice began to quiver.

"Scared?"

"Yeaah… no. This is illegal. Do you know how much trouble _both_ of us can get into for this?"

"Who cares? It'll keep you up all night - more time to study. It'll make you feel pleasure, something that you need in your situation."

"I don't care. I may be desperate for a way out, but I'm not _that_ desperate - desperate enough to get arrested for it and spending the rest of my life in prison."

Dash clicked his tongue, forcibly clasping his wrist and bringing his hand up, slapping the packet into his palm and closing his fingers over it. Before Danny could even protest, Dash mumbled a brief "think about it" before turning and starting off.

Danny squeezed the packet in his hand, a shiver running over him, leaving him in a cold sweat. He didn't have to open his hand up to examine the substance again. He had heard a great deal of this drug - heard that it was highly addictive and _very dangerous._ He had heard stories of people who had gotten hooked on it with _just one hit._ He had heard that rehabilitation was hell, and recovery was _even worse._ He had heard that it was _easy_ to overdose on it.

Shaking his head rapidly, he waged a war with his own thoughts regarding the drug. It's also been said that the media loved twisting things about _anything_ that they could. Maybe they twisted the information about meth, too. Sure, he'd look like shit if he were to take it, but at what cost? The cost of feeling pleasure, of feeling _something_ in general. He needed a getaway from his current situation, and maybe meth was exactly what he needed.

But another side of him wasn't so sure. There is scientific evidence that meth is just as dangerous a many say it is. Not only was it almost just as addictive as heroin, but it put you through a rush, which eventually led you to a crash, and that's just the first time through. Each time you take in more and more because you build a higher tolerance to it each time you take it, and eventually it kills your body, shuts everything down - your heart, your brain. Everything.

He couldn't do this.

But yet he could.

He shoved the small packet into his back pocket and turned, casually leaving the bleachers with an eerie mood. He decided to take Dash's advice.

He decided to think about it.

…

Contradiction was hard to reason with. The little packet sitting across the room on his desk looked tempting from his spot on his bed. He immediately came home and set everything where it was now, and he had realized that he had been like that for hours. His mother occasionally knocked on his bedroom door, asking if he were okay, to which he'd reply that he was. But he wouldn't move. He let his thoughts nail him to the bed.

He decided to call Sam (not Tucker, because Danny recalled that he mentioned a family outing going on that day). Sam would know what to say. It had been so long since his friends' names even fell from his mouth. To call out of the blue after being absent for so long was rude beyond belief, but he knew they would understand. Besides, this was urgent. He had a decision to make, and he couldn't make it on his own. He punched in the number he had known by heart into the keypad and placed the speaker up to his ear, listening to the ring. After a few seconds, a click was heard, and her voice radiated through.

"He's alive," she answers.

"Hey to you too," he chuckled.

"No, hey to _you._ You've been so quiet lately, I thought that you were, like, brain dead."

"I'm sorry… but I… kind of need your help with something."

"Study wise?" He heard a small clattering on the other end, like the sound of something hard being set down upon a surface.

"Decision wise."

"Oh," he noticed her voice had grown darker. "A decision for what?"

What if Sam had automatically started judging him? He knew his friends - they weren't the judgemental kind. They understood everything to the fullest. But this was _meth_ he was talking about - an illegal drug that shouldn't even be in his possession, that shouldn't even be in his state of mind. It wasn't like he was at the ice cream parlor deciding which flavor to choose from.

He took a deep breath and blatantly said it.

"Dash offered me crystal meth today beneath the bleachers after school. I think I'm going to try it. Just once and then no more."

The sudden silence that flooded the speaker made him a little worried. The cackling of the phoneline filled it, which could've been why the situation wasn't as awkward as it was supposed to be. He waited for her to say something. Anything.

But all he heard was the cackling.

"Sam?"

Still nothing.

"Sam."

"Y-yeah?"

"You're still with me here, right?"

"Oh, uh… yeah. Of course I am."

"Okay. So what do you think?"

Absolute silence.

…

The phone call was no big help. He ended up having to make the decision on his own, and as he sat at the desk with his head in his hands, staring down at the packet, he knew what he wanted to do.

 _Maybe just… once. Once. Maybe I'm part of the other half of the statistic - the ones who don't get so easily hooked on it. And at this point, all other options are already on the table, all except this one._

 _Just one hit._

 _One… hit._

Danny took the packet and opened the top of it, dumping the crystal upon the wooden surface before him. He listened carefully for the sound of footsteps anywhere in the hallway or near his room, hearing nothing but the background noise of the TV downstairs in the living room. Relying on the notion that no one was around, he made the choice to get it done and over with, nice and fast.

Taking out his algebra textbook from his backpack right next to him, leaning on the leg of the desk, he whacked at the crystal, breaking them up into little shards, and placed the textbook back into his backpack. Lowering his face to the surface, his nose just lingering above it, he did one quick sniff, feeling the sensation of solid, hard crystal flying into his airway, and he lunged up, a sudden wave of numbness swiping through his brain. Soon, it was replaced with a sense of adrenaline, and it felt _good._ It felt better than what he had ever dreamed of.

He bit his lip to prevent from crying out, not in pain, but in pleasure. He felt good, felt like he could do anything. He felt like he could run at top speed. He felt like he could fly (no pun intended).

He felt great.

He felt invincible.

Most importantly, he wanted to feel it again.

He wanted more.

Much more.

...

Three weeks.

A lot had happened in three weeks.

It had been that duration of time since Danny's first hit.

It had been that long since he had locked himself away in his room, never to come out.

It had been that long since he had even been to school.

And everyone-legitimately _everyone-_ was starting to notice.

Tucker and Sam especially.

They were growing increasingly worried.

Phone calls remained unanswered.

They passed it off as them being ignored.

Each day that passed was agony.

They thought to not visit him, as they were afraid of what they'd find.

The test that Danny had been so worried about had been long passed.

If that's truly what he was worried about, why has his absence prolonged?

Was he mad at them?

Did he want to avoid them?

Did he want to quit?

 _Did_ he quit? Leave high school completely?

What was going on?

What happened to him?

…

 _Time duration of Meth usage: six weeks_

After a month and a half, time began moving slow for Danny. He had gotten supply after supply from Dash, but it was limited. He could only get so much before he'd run out, and Danny began having withdrawals. Eventually he stopped going to school altogether, resorting to locking himself in his room, which attracted the attention of his parents. He was so surprised he had managed to hide that long from his family, but then again he spent not even half of his time at home. During their lunchtime, Sam and Tucker had discussed this. They noticed that their friend being gone for so long left a sort of empty void within them, and they didn't like it.

"I miss Danny so much," Tucker stated glumly after taking a bite of his chicken patty sandwich. His obnoxious chewing mixed with the sound of gushing saliva made Sam squirm uncomfortably.

"I've noticed," she muttered, trying to shake the thought of what she had just witnessed. "Maybe he's been sick, I don't know."

"For a month and a half?"

Her mouth opened and closed, no words stringing together in response.

"Maybe he-"

"Tucker, don't you dare say that Danny ran away. He wouldn't do that. If something were wrong, he'd tell us."

"You talk to him lately?" He brushed chunks of wet chicken off of his shirt.

"No. You?"

"Nah. I tried texting him over and over ever since I got back home from the family dinner. He's never even responded… well, not to me, at least."

"He only responded to me a couple of times." She picked at her tofu. "That's it."

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe he just doesn't want anything to do with us anymore."

"Shut up, Tucker - you're so full of it," Sam shook her head.

"I'm serious!"

"Look, if that were the case, he'd tell us to leave him alone or to quit bugging him or something. You have a point right? He's not one to just take off without telling anyone."

Tucker shrugged, picking up his sandwich to take another bite. "With all due respect Sam, when was the last time Danny's actually been himself?"

"You don't change in a matter of a six weeks."

"Maybe he's got a drug problem. Has he told you anything? Steroids? Heroin? Anything like that?"

Sam began to tense up, her eyes widening slightly. She recalled the conversation her and Danny had over the phone that night – him mentioning that he was going to try meth. Her not saying anything… She didn't want to feel like the bad guy. After all, maybe that was why Danny was avoiding her – maybe he was mad. At her, she couldn't tell. If so, why did Tucker have to suffer the consequences too? He didn't do anything wrong. She had contradicted over and over whether or not to tell Tucker what had happened, until she finally decided to keep it hush-hush. Danny had already thought of Sam as the enemy; the last thing she wanted was for Tucker to turn on her too.

"No," her voice cracked slightly as she replied in a low tone. "He never mentioned anything."

…

The rest of the school day seemed to go by with an agonizing duration of time, or maybe that's only how it felt to Sam because she spent more time worrying about Danny – wondering where he was and when he was coming back – than she did on actual schoolwork. Mr. Lancer's lesson on the Korean War bypassed Sam's ears, just inaudible mumbles and nothing more. She wanted to listen, truly – after all, her great-grandfather had participated in it long before he passed away. Normally she was interested in world history, but today was not the right day to even _consider_ being at school. Her mind was too afloat to be contained within an academic environment.

She decided to set herself at ease and head straight to Danny's house after school.

And for the entire school day, her plans never changed.

After the final bell, when the halls began crowding with noisy students, Sam met with Tucker near his locker to ask if he wanted to join her. He told her that he'd pass and that he was heading home to help his mother hang up a few pictures in their living room. So Sam took off alone.

When she finally reached his house, she approached the front door and knocked gingerly, as if not to disturb them. The door opened to a rather concerned-looking Maddie (Danny's mother), who clearly didn't expect anyone to be visiting then (normally, Danny tells his parents ahead of time when Tucker or Sam come to visit). Sam gave the woman a flash of worrisome, and suddenly Maddie reassured her with a greeting.

"Oh… Sam… I didn't expect to see you here today."

"Sorry Mrs. Fenton," Sam's eyebrows knitted together. She knew she was troubling her in a way, and she was afraid that if she'd stayed any longer, she'd aggravate her more than she already appeared to be. The real question, though, was why. What's got her so rattled? "I just wanted to stop by to see if Danny was alright. He hasn't been at school for a while."

Maddie froze upon hearing Sam's reasoning, which Sam had noticed almost immediately. That's when she started to become frightened. Did something happen to him? Was he ill? Or worse – was he _gone?_

Her eyes grew teary as all rationality was tossed from her mind and were replaced with thoughts of death, absence and fear. Danny being gone was a terrible thought, more terrible than anything Sam could ever imagine. Every day she cherished having him in her life; every day she thought of what the future would bring them if they were to be together for good. The thought of living without him killed her, inside and out. She had to know, even if it were a pain for Maddie to mention. She had to know if Danny was alright.

"Mrs. Fenton… please tell me that Danny's alright… where is he…?"

"Sam… darling… Danny's been locked in his room for a little over a week now. If something were to happen to him, I wouldn't know. He's completely shut everyone out, even Jazz! We've all tried to get through him… but maybe if he were to see you…"

Sam nodded in understanding, wiping a lone tear that had escaped her right eye. When Maddie stepped aside, giving her access to the entrance to the house through her gesture, Sam took the opportunity immediately and wormed her way indoors, her shoulders slumped in devastation. She didn't need to turn around to know that Maddie had shut the front door already, and soon she felt her hand fall upon her shoulder. Sam's eyes peered up to Maddie's, who gave her the say-so to go upstairs by whispering "you know where he is".

The teen nodded and started up the stairs cautiously, as if to sneak up to Danny's room. As if she didn't want him knowing she was there. The halls were normally bright, brighter than any normal hallway you'd wander into. Maybe it was the kind of white they had used to paint the walls with. But today those walls were not so bright. They were darker than normal. Maybe they were foreshadowing an event that was yet to come. She found Danny's bedroom door, closed and bolted, just as Maddie had told her. With a deep, shaky breath, she knocked three times on the wood. It took minutes of waiting to realize that he wasn't going to come. So Sam took the liberty of turning to an alternative.

Rushing off down the stairs and through the living room, past the kitchen where Maddie and Jack and Jazz were all sitting tentatively, she made it to the door the led to the garage, which she opened straight up and shut it behind her after turning on the light. Then she started rummaging through the shelves before she stumbled upon Jack's toolbox that she then opened up and grabbed a flat-head screwdriver from. Then she shut it briskly and returned outside of Danny's bedroom as quickly as she could. Bringing her hand up to her bangs, she reached for her bobby pin and pulled it out.

At a young age, Sam had almost always forgotten her house key. This lack of responsibility left everyone irritated, including her. That was, until she discovered lock picking, and she began teaching her ways to break into things without having to have a key. As she grew older, she thought that she wouldn't really need such a skill to assist her for the rest of her life.

Considering that she needed to do it now, she realized that she had been wrong.

She stuck the bobby pin into the lock and the screwdriver a little ways beneath it before wiggling the bobby pin around, bringing her ear close to it, listening for a small click. She worked slowly (she didn't really see the need to rush; Danny wasn't going anywhere). When she heard her cue, she held the pin in place and used the screwdriver to turn the lock off to the right before clutching the knob and turning it, pushing the door open.

She was scared, too scared for words to describe, but this was Danny she was referring to. She didn't want to intrude, but everyone was concerned and he had been nothing but a castaway. If anyone asked her, he had been begging for it.

Sticking her head inside, her eyes searched left and right before stepping in. There was nothing out of the ordinary with his room – everything was still in its place and nothing had been touched. His posters were still up, his bed was a mess and there were dirty clothes on the floor – just a typical teenage boy. But then she noticed a dim light casting a glow from beneath the crack of the bathroom door tagged onto his bedroom. She cocked her head in suspicion and peeked under, seeing a pair of… feet, possibly a size ten.

Danny's feet.

From the looks of it he had been sitting on the toilet, but his pants weren't around his ankles, so it must have been because he was just finding a more private area.

 _What is he doing in there?_

Danny never just sat in the bathroom alone for hours. It wasn't like him at all.

She brought a balled fist up to the door and knocked gingerly, moving her lips closer to the crease of it to direct her voice inward.

"Danny, can you hear me? Are you in there?"

"Sam!" he cried suddenly as if taken by surprise. "What are you doing - go away! You're not supposed to be here!"

Though heartbroken, Sam knew she had to get through to him. Maddie said she was their only hope left to convince him to confide in her, after no one else could. She couldn't just give it. She needed Danny.

"Open the door, Danny," she demanded, her hand wiggling the stiff doorknob.

"No," he muttered.

With a heaving sigh, Sam knew that she, again, had to get in via lock picking. If only someone made something easy for her for once. She removed a bobby pin from her hair, sticking it into the lock. Within in seconds, she was heard a click and removed it, pushing the door open with her foot as she stuck it back in her hair. When the door finally softly hit the wall behind it, she was able to get a clear look at her boyfriend, and the moment she did, she wished she hadn't.

There was blood on the walls beside him, the floor next to his feet, the skin of his arms, which had been opened up by the set of tweezers he had in his opposing hand, and _all over_ the bathroom counter area, where his cologne and deodorant were. The place looked like a mini torture chamber, minus the contraptions. To her, it was a house of horrors. Danny himself didn't look any better. His skin was pale and he had developed a sort of five-o'clock shadow from not shaving for a while. He had a dirty white shirt on with aged pit stains where his underarms fit, and a pair of year-old blue Levi jeans. All over his face appeared to be scabs - under his eyes, next to his nose, all over both of his cheeks, near his dimples, along his neck… They appeared to be signs of where acne used to be, but Danny was far past the breakout stage. He rarely ever got zits anymore; Sam knew _exactly_ where those scabs came from. _Her_ Danny - the Danny she had fallen madly in love with - was picking at his skin, over and over, digging deeper and deeper more and more each second she just stood there taken everything in. She felt so sick, she thought she was going to throw up. She couldn't take seeing him like that anymore. She _had_ to stop him.

"Oh God! Danny, what did you do?!" she cried out, rushing over to Danny and restraining his arms to where he dropped the set of tweezers onto the bathroom tile, letting out a yell as he tried pushing her off of him.

"Sam, let go!" he yelled, trying to wiggle his wrist free from her grip.

"No! Listen to me, Danny, please! This isn't like you-!"

With a burst of energy, Danny quickly lunged up and slammed Sam against the wall behind her, gripping her throat tightly and balling his right hand into a fist. He brought it up to her face and stopped, looking Sam in the eye. Sam was frightened beyond her biggest doubts. She knew Danny, knew he would never do anything to hurt her. He was a changed man now. Now she's seen him do things she _never_ thought he'd ever do. Maybe this wasn't any different. But another part of her waved it away. Danny loved her more than anything; Danny _told_ her that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. Maybe now it wasn't too late to reason with him, and reason with him, she'd try.

"Danny, please," Sam choked out. "It's me. Don't you recognize me?"

 _Maybe if I kiss him it'd help._

But then Sam got a glimpse of his teeth through a grit, and she was appalled at the sight. They were yellow, _really_ yellow, not just "forgot to brush my teeth for a few days" yellow. He had paid very poor attention to his dental hygiene for quite some time and it was taking a toll on him. They would end up damaged, rotten and poor if he didn't tend to them soon. To top it all of, his heavy breathing, so noticeable from his mouth being so close to her face, released a toxic scent that had wormed its way up Sam's nasal passage. It smelled like meth, a _lot_ of meth.

Suddenly, kissing him _wasn't_ such a good idea.

Her eyes pleaded with him, her face having the features of an innocent, harmless newborn baby. Danny's eyes softened. At this moment she noticed that they were dilated. His pupils were unnaturally huge. All the signs of drug use. Now Sam definitely had nothing to doubt.

"You wouldn't hurt your girlfriend, would you?" she slowly brought her hand up to his fist, lowering it down to his side _carefully_ so to not startle him into doing the same thing all over again. Then her tiny, skinny fingers closed around the wrist of the hand around her neck. Danny felt, in a small fraction of that time, relieved. He missed Sam's touch, and had almost forgotten how soft her skin was, how _pale_ and _beautiful_ her milky white skin was. It almost made him cry, seeing how he was treating her right now. All he wanted was a small little hit and that was all. Just the hit that Dash had first given him that day under the bleachers. He swore he wouldn't get addicted. He swore to both himself _and_ to Sam.

And look at him now.

 _Sam…_

 _For Christ's sake, this is_ _ **Sam.**_

 _What_ _ **am**_ _I?_

Danny was a monster.

He abruptly released his hand, slowly backing away from a coughing Sam. She brought her hand up to her esophagus, which was immediately forming a bruise. She panted and, with watery eyes, glanced up at Danny, who was shaking his head in disbelief. She stepped toward him, reaching out for him.

"It's okay, Danny, it's okay. You're alright."

Danny took another step back.

"No… no Sam, I'm… I'm not alright."

A step forward; a step back.

"Danny, please. You can trust me."

A step back; a step forward.

"No!"

They both stopped.

"Sam… please…" he held a palm up to her, turning his back and dragging his feet out of the bathroom. "Stay away from me from now on, you hear me?"

"Danny, no. I can't-"

"Sam, please! Please just stay away from me!"

Whilst in his bedroom, he changed form and turned intangible, flying through the ceiling of his bedroom. Sam froze, her eyes staring at the spot he'd once stood in. It was only minutes later that she realized she was stepping in his blood, standing in his bathroom, and the man that had choked the life out of her was the man that had sworn his love to her.

Too much irony to comprehend.

Shocked, she had almost forgotten to breathe. She stood still, eyeing the same spot he had just been standing in previously, as if he were still there.

…

Back at the Manson residence, Sam and Tucker sat silently on the couch of her home theater, with no possible words to form on Sam's experience at Danny's house only a few hours earlier. Tucker was just as frozen as Sam, and he couldn't even breathe. The Danny that they knew-the Danny that they grew up with-was gone. To Sam's fright, they knew he'd probably never be the same ever again.

"You mean… _our_ Danny?"

Sam could nothing but nod.

"Sam, you've got to be joking."

"I looked into his eyes Tucker… they were all dark… evil-looking… like it wasn't even him. He really looked like… like he was going to hurt me for a second there… and then just like that, he leaves."

Tucker does nothing but listens.

"And his mouth… his teeth… they were chipped and yellowed, when they used to be straight and white and beautiful… he was pale… and his bones were a little more exposed… I don't… I can't…"

"Sam, it's okay, you… you don't have to talk about it anymore."

"Good because I can't. I'll throw up if I keep bringing myself back to it."

"Sam, I am so sorry… I'm so, so sorry… what's happened to him?"

Sam sniffs, holding back her tears.

"Do you have any idea how this all started?"

Sam shook her head, still unwilling to bring up the day her and Danny were on the phone, the conversation of him wanting her opinion on the introduction of the drug that ruined his life. She couldn't bring herself to admit that she was the one who refused to defend him. To talk him out of it.

She was an accomplice to his suffering.

Yet she was still too afraid to admit it.

"I have to do something to distract myself."

"How about you just put on a movie, anything you want, and I'll go make some popcorn and we just… try our best to forget, okay?"

Sam nodded. Tucker gave her shoulder a little pat and stood up from the couch, exiting the room quietly. Sam let out a breath as if she had been holding it for hours. She eyed the class ring on her finger that Danny had given her the day they swore an oath to each other and removed it, looking at the etching of her name on the inside. Then she placed it on the table before her, covering it up with a napkin. As much as she loved it, looking at a gift from him at the present time was agonizing. She couldn't muster up the courage to glance at things from the past that brought back memories of what used to be without comparing them to now.

After sitting in place for a little while, she rose from the couch and started to the shelves cluttered with DVDs, digging through to find a good movie. She went through, trying to pick something that didn't remind her of one of her and Danny's little movie outings. She found older movies such as _The Shining, The Exorcist_ and _Silence of the Lambs,_ but she couldn't choose which to pick. She finally decide to just grab a random one. She heard footsteps behind her, and without turning around, she called back, "that was fast."

She looks to laugh when she sees who she wasn't expecting: Danny, tweaking and twitching before her. He looked almost the same as he did hours ago, but he was on a high-she could tell. He had tremors like a hypoglycemic, and his pupils were dilated. He looked sick, squeamish, like he would vomit at any second. She took a step back, half in shock and half in fear.

"Danny," she whispers, the name, once passionate and familiar, now foreign and offensive.

"I've been looking for you, Sam," he responds darkly, "since about a few hours ago, when I last saw you."

"Danny…" she whispers his name again, on the verge of tears, long welling up in her eyes. "What did you do to yourself?"

"What I should've done _a long time ago,"_ he smiles, his yellow teeth filled with bittersweet passion.

"Danny… this is destroying you… you've got to let it go."

"You'd like that… wouldn't you Sam?"

He takes a step toward her, to which she shakes her head in complete astonishment. In the corner of her eye, she sees Tucker, having just come back with a big plastic bowl of their snack, who had long put it down to peek around the corner.

"Danny… I know it makes you feel good… makes you feel powerful and stressless and… unstoppable. But it's making you lose yourself. It'll kill you. I'm begging you Danny-please. You've got to get help."

"I like meth Sam. As a matter of fact-" Danny's eyes flash neon green. "-I _love_ meth."

His words drip with acid.

Sam sees it in his eyes-in face: this is no longer the Danny she fell in love with.

No longer the Danny she fought ghosts with and kissed and talked on the phone all night with.

This is was someone else, inside of him, destroying what's left of the old him.

And she had never been so terrified of one she loved so much as she was now.

"What do you want from me?" she asked fearfully. "Huh? What could I have that you could possibly want?"

He takes a couple more steps forward, his body on autopilot, and he gets close enough to where she can _smell_ the poison in his breath.

" _Money,_ Sam. Dash stopped supplying; went to someone else. He's got the best, for the right price… and you," he leans in, placing his big, rough calloused hands on her small hips, "you can help me with that."

"Danny," she shifts uncomfortably under his touch, trying to move his hands away to no avail, as he only begins to squeeze. "You know I can't do that."

"Oh?" he responds cockily.

"I can't be a factor in your drug usage… I can't be an accomplice in killing you."

"And who are _you_ to tell me no about the decisions that _I_ make?" his grip begins to tighten. She lets out a gasp of pain, her eyebrows furrowing, but her face still flat.

"Danny, you have to understand-"

"Oh, I understand perfectly-you'd rather see me a mentally abused man than a happy one."

"No Danny, not at all! I'd rather see you alive than dead!"

His grip becomes agonizingly painful now as tears slip down her cheeks. "Danny, let me go; you're hurting me."

" _No one_ tells me _no,"_ he hisses with venom in his voice, " _especially not. Fucking. You."_

"Danny, you're scaring me-"

Then, quick as a flash, he removes one hand and clutches it around her throat, a grip tight enough to turn her neck purples, and slams her back up against the wall, ceasing her to hover two feet above the ground. Sam began to dig at his wrists in hopes that it will pain him enough to let go, but he only smiles an evil smile. Sam sees nothing but absolute darkness in his eyes, when they once used to be a beautiful baby blue. With one simple utter, he leans in close to her lips and speaks daintily with, "good."

Tucker waits not a second more before hitting Danny in the head with a lamp. Sam drops to the ground and lands on her hands and knees, coughing up a storm. Tucker, eyeing his unconscious friend on the floor, helps Sam to her feet and rubs her back.

"Sam, are you alright?"

She shakes her head rapidly. "No… no… I'm not. Danny is… Danny's gone Tucker. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Sam. Something's seriously fucked up with him."

Before Sam could say anything more, she was shocked to see Danny rising to his feet behind him. In an attempt to alert him, Sam shouted, "Tucker, look out!"

Tucker moved, pushing Sam further back, just in time for Danny to swing. Quick as a mouse, Tucker swooped around, grabbing a hold of Danny's forearms and keeping them high up above his head. As he wiggled and writhed, the men grunted in effort, Tucker trying his hardest to restrain him to keep him from hurting them or himself.

"Sam, go get help!" Tucker cried.

"I'm not leaving you here-!"

" _Just do it!"_ he exclaimed, Danny snatching one arm free and decking him in the face. Tucker stumbled back and blocked another hit coming in towards his stomach. Sam, shocked and overwhelmed with the fight, stood motionless before she quickly ran to the table lamp beside the loveseat. By the time she made it to the two boys, Danny had long knocked Tucker to the ground. She stopped in her tracks, her hands shaking so hard the lamp shade was jiggling against the bulb. With dark, evil eyes and a perverted grin on his face, he wraps his arm around her hip and covers her mouth with his hand. She screams, kicking and flailing, aiming for his groin as accurately as she can. She rips her spider necklace off of her neck, gripping it in her hand in an attempt to use it as a weapon. Quick as lightning, he moves over to her front side, slamming her fist into the wall behind her repeatedly. With each blunt force, she yelps, eventually dropping her necklace form bruised knuckles.

He breathes on her neck, hearing a chuckle erupting from his throat.

"You're so cute, Sam-always charging into battles, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

He clutches her throat, and she gagged, her raspy voice able to speak through the vice grip. "Danny, let me go. I can't breathe."

"I'm tired of your shit Sam. You're going to give me something of yours to sell… and you're going to do it now."

He released his touch, letting her drop to the ground in a coughing fit. Danny turns quick on his heels and grabs the lamp she had long ago had, seeing that it was made entirely out of marble. It was worth a lot of money; a hand-me-down that Sam's grandmother left her.

Danny picked it up and slammed the head bulb against the table, letting the shards of glass fall all over the floor. He gripped Sam's arm, and she cried out in pain as he yanked her over to the loveseat and threw her down.

"When he wakes up…" he breathed threateningly, "you tell him _nothing._ You hear me?"

And Sam, in fear that she would be killed, nodded slowly. And he took off.

He didn't even leave any trace of a goodbye.

This wasn't Danny. This was anyone but him.

What was happening to him?

…

 _Time duration of Meth usage: three months_

The slight breeze in the air used to be Sam's favorite kind of weather to take walks in. Back when her and Danny were still dating, that's all they would ever do. Danny would always come knocking on her bedroom window, offering to take her out for a night time fly, to which Sam would always agree. Besides, how could she turn that down? Flying had always been her favorite thing to do. It relaxed her; it relaxed him… it was something that they had in common.

But on a beautiful autumn day, there she stood, in the middle of the park where it all began. Taking in deep breaths, she smiled faintly, remembering the place for the most special memory of them all: the day she met her two best friends. She found the spot where the sandbox used to be located, a faded rectangle of where it once resided. She closed her eyes and thought back to that sunny day, trying to remember what had happened. Vaguely, she remembered her toy being stolen, and Danny, being the gentleman he always was, gave his to Sam. Tucker eventually joined in after Dash had finished picking on him. Together, they all hung out and played and laughed and goofed around… and they created an inseparable bond.

Now, things were different. The bolts of the swings creaked as the chains rocked back and forth. The merry-go-round was tilted off the axis, and the swing had collapsed. The place had been run down, big time. Literally nobody passed by that neighborhood anymore for fear of being mugged. After all, it had been years since people really spent any time in it.

The park was like the people around her-changed, some for the worst; some for the better.

She snuggles up closer into her jacket, the breeze growing increasingly powerful. Crunched up leaves hit her feet and flutter off into the distance. She turns and starts to walk off, but stops abruptly.

Right before her.

Is the man she used to know.

Only this time, he looked worse.

Way worse.

"Danny…" she cries quietly. "W… what are you doing? Where have you been?"

"Out… around," he answers concisely. "What's it to you? It's not like you care."

"Danny, I do. I do… it's just… you're never around anymore. We're all worried about you. The police-they've scattered throughout the entire city waiting to spot you. Your mom, your dad, your sister, Tucker…"

"That doesn't matter."

"But it does! It really does!"

"Oh… so you're saying that you care about me?" he questions menacingly.

"Yes, Danny," she replies casually, not realizing anything wrong in his voice.

"So… you _still love me?"_

"Of course Danny. I'll always love you. That's why I want you to get better."

"Well," he slowly starts walking towards her, "that must mean it's okay for me to still be with you, right?" He centers his hands on her hips, faint with the marks of where the bruises used to be, and encloses them until his fingers lace together over her butt. She grows hesitant and swallows dryly, his lips moving in closer to her neck. She backs away slightly, her heart beginning to race with worry. Sam didn't want anything to happen next, but at the same time she didn't want to tell Danny no in fear of angering him. She could tell that he was on a high-that meant that he was highly irritable.

Sam had to be _very_ carefully how she strings her words together.

"Danny, I-"

"Shh," he whispers, moving his lips from her neck to her ear and huskily states, "you'll enjoy it if you relax."

"Danny, no-"

He tightens his grip, digging his nails into her skin. "You wouldn't want what happened that one day to happen again, would you?"

In a fidgety manner, Sam shakes her head.

"Then _behave,"_ he hisses, moving his hands to the zipper on the side of her skirt. She didn't know what to say or what to do. Does she tell Danny that she's scared, hoping that he'll come to and release her? Does she let him do what she wants him to do?

What is happening?

Who _was_ he?

Danny pulls her skirt down to her ankles, grasping her hands and pulling her forward so that her feet are no longer enclosed in them. Kicking them off to the side, he grazed his hands up her arm, a hard gulp emanating from her throat. For once in her life, she didn't like the feel of his calloused hands grazing her smooth arms. His smile, once worth over millions of dollars, was now trashy and rotten, guaranteed to make any kid run for their life. His hair, once silky and smooth, now matted and tangled. He had worn a faded gray t-shirt with dirt stains rubbed in all over, blue sweatpants and black leather combat shoes. The aroma he let off nearly made the girl puke. It smelled like poison; she could only imagine what it was doing to his body. And as she stood there, knees shaking, both from fear and from the cold, she knew she had been completely at his mercy, and seeing as the look in his eyes was different, this made her feel even more helpless.

He backed her up until she was in the grass just short of the playground edge, to a small section that had been covered by bushes. Then, he pulled her shirt up over her head, tossing it behind him, exposing her lacy black bra. He bent down, kissing the exposed skin of her breasts. This didn't make her feel any safer. She still wanted out.

"D-Danny-"

"Don't talk," he commanded her as he reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, exposing her nipples. He runs his tongue slowly over them, cupping them in his hand, kissing them… it was supposed to feel right, coming from him. She loved him so much that it sometimes hurt so bad.

But it felt so wrong.

Why did it have to be this way?

His shaky hands drift their way down to her panties, giving one tug as he pulls them down her legs and picks her feet up, throwing them off to the side. His mouth moves down her legs, to her shaved lower region. She could feel his warm breath near her clitoris.

"Danny, please don't-"

Abruptly, she feels her body fall back onto the grass, a balled fish slamming the soil just inches from the side of her face.

" _I told you not to_ _ **fucking**_ _talk!"_ Danny snaps at her. She cowers back, breathing in and out rapidly. To her confusion, his face grows from irritated to passionate and gentle. Just seconds before, he looked as if he wanted to kill her.

Eyes black.

What was going on?

"I see. You're scared. You want this to be over." He leans in, the scent of his foul breath worming its way into her nose. "Very well."

He crawls until his knees are on either side of her and unties the strings of his sweatpants, yanking them down along with his boxers, exposing his blood-coursed, throbbing, hard erection. Sam let out a cry of fear, bracing her small hands on his chest in attempts to push him off. He grips her wrists roughly, slamming them back to the dirt below. Judging by Sam's mental measurement, he was large. Fairly large. At least nine inches.

How much room does she have _in there?_

"Danny, Danny, please-"

"Shut up!" he snapped at her, slapping her cheek. " _Shut the fuck up."_

"Danny, no, no-!"

With one swift movement, he took his shirt and shoved it into her mouth, far enough in to where it gagged her. She choked, the taste of dirt and sweat flooding her taste-buds. Her tears came in hoards down her cheeks. She didn't even get a second to recover before he sheathed himself into her, breaking her hymen in a single fluid motion. She let out a small scream, scratching at Danny's forearms, and he held her hands up above her head to restrain her.

"If you want this to end… you need to _stop struggling."_

She gulps, Danny's breath traveling on her neck as he hovers close above her breasts, the sensation of him moving around inside of her. He grunted, as the walls of her vagina clamped down on his shaft. All the while, she lied there, silent in fear. After everything they had been through, she couldn't even have the decency to look at him again.

She had learned to fear the one she loved the most.

"You're so… fucking… tight."

He goes faster and faster, slamming to her so hard his balls flapped against her inner thighs. It was sonic fast, so rare and unrealistic. The drugs had to have been what was giving him such a rush.

She wished she could enjoy it. She wished that this was blissful and consensual and romantic…

But this…

This was rape.

By someone she cared about the most.

And knowing this-finally realizing this-twisted the knife in her heart.

"Moan," he ordered her.

She froze solid, her mascara in streaks down her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry; clearly I wasn't loud enough," he balled her hair up in a fist behind her head and yanked it back to where her neck was fully exposed. " _Moan…_ before I _really_ punish you."

Like a dog obeying orders for their master, she began moaning.

He kept on going, the veins in his neck emerging, sweat beading on his forehead. She could feel his nails digging into her wrists. He slowed his pace and shifted, ramming into her at a separate intervals, her breasts circling wildly. He moved his hands down to them, squeezing them.

"Yes… yes… yes," he chanted. "You're so fucking hot… you feel so good."

Sam, meanwhile, had long moved her head to the side, looking at the trees, waiting for it all to end. She reminisced about a time when her and Danny had gone for a night fly to their little spot under the tree and cuddled as they looked at the stars above. They'd talk and talk, forgetting the time and the world around them. In their moments, all they saw were each other. Sam explained that one she wanted to live in a moderate-sized catalog home, with two beautiful kids and a marriage between the both of them. She wanted to finish school and be who she wanted to be first to get there. He laughed, her beautiful amethyst eyes looking up at him. In an exchange, he told her his goal was to still become an astronaut, to go into space and explore. Sam always used to tell him that whatever it was that he wanted to pursue, whatever it was that he wanted to do, she'd stand behind him no matter what.

But this…

This wasn't at all what she had had in mind.

His concrete voice broke her thoughts. "I'm gonna cum… oh God…"

Immediately, she whipped her head to face him, frantically shaking her head no, her gagged voice cracking. The last thing she needed was to become pregnant. She had already been humiliated, violated, and above all, hurt. She already had the memory of it implanted in her head. She didn't want to carry around the evidence for the next nine months that would eventually turn into the rest of her life.

Upon seeing this, Danny smirked and pulled himself out of her, removing his shirt from her mouth.

At this point, neither him nor Sam realized the dangerously large pool of blood near her opening.

He stood up and angled his blood-covered penis a little down towards her, gesturing at it.

"Suck it."

Sam looked at him with eyes red and puffy, saliva built up in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow it down, but it didn't work for long. She broke into a full-blown weep.

"Danny… please… please don't make me do this…" her voice was deep with sorrow.

With a look of anger on his face, he yanked her towards him by her hair, her cries of pain echoing in their ears. Then he held her to about where her mouth lined up with his tip.

"Hope you have a strong gag reflex… open your mouth."

She shook her head rapidly, her lips tightening so hard the skin around it turned white.

" _Open your_ _ **fucking**_ _mouth,"_ he said once more as he pried it open, shoving himself into it. She choked, coughing excessively. She placed her hands on his thighs, trying to keep herself from falling over. She had grown dizzy. Tired so suddenly. Maybe it was from lack of breathing. "Now _suck."_

Finally deciding that fighting would only make it worse, she obeyed and sucked, moving her head back and forth at turtle speed.

"Faster."

She tried to go fast. But she had been so out of breath that she couldn't even see straight, let alone move.

Danny gripped her head, both hands cupping around her neck, and held her head still as he pounded into her, the tip hitting her uvula. She wasn't just gagging anymore; she had long been on the verge of vomiting. He hissed in delight, his rotten teeth clenched hard together. It had seemed endless to Sam. It was just non-stop mental torture.

How could he do this?

In what part of his brain is he thinking this is okay? Or not thinking at all?

"I'm gonna cum… and you're gonna swallow it," he focused on her, making sure she made eye contact before saying, " _all of it."_

Reluctantly, she nodded. And he kept going on.

And on.

And on.

His whispers turned into long groans and eventually a little bit of yelling of ineligible words and noises.

She felt him tighten up.

Then, finally, he did it.

His sperm shooting out all the way to the back of her throat. A whole mouthful of it. Warm and salty as it trickled down her throat.

And Sam, even though she didn't want to, did what she was told: she swallowed every single bit of it.

He pulled her head off of his shaft, throwing her back flat on her ass. She coughed over and over again, her arms shaking too hard to even hold herself up. He said nothing more, but took his clothes and put them on. Afterwards, he lifted her chin up to face him.

"I would pay you for your… services… but I think I've pleasured you to the point where _you_ owe _me._ "

 _Services?_ With this said, Sam finally saw what she was to him.

She was like a prostitute… when she thought she had been his girlfriend.

Then he turned on his heels and walked over to her tossed skirt, picked it up and dug around into the pockets before he found a $20 bill and, with nothing more to say, he walked off, never to return again.

He was gone.

Nowhere.

Nothing.

And Sam lied there, heartbroken beyond measure and pained beyond belief.

She crawled over to a nearby bush and, without any chance to hold it down, regurgitated everything she had in her stomach, burping and gagging in the process. Then with jagged breaths, she wiped off whatever had been left behind on her lips and curled up in a fetal position, lying on the ground, silent and empty.

Blank.

No longer in a state of mind to feel anything but numbness.

If nothing else had proven it by now, this had: she has officially lost not only her best friend and boyfriend, but the only man she knew she could ever love.

And it was to the point of no return.

…

 _Duration of meth usage: seven months_

The neighborhood was ominously quiet. It might have been because everyone had long cut out the lights in preparation for sleep. The streetlight just before the gas station had flickered on and off, a bulb shorting out in it. The whole place had been locked down. Everyone was gone. Everything was silent.

That's what left Danny all alone with his thoughts.

In the backroom, where all of the cleaning supplies were kept, he was among them, having just finished making another batch of meth with a higher concentration. Beside a white bucket sits a small portion of crystallized white shards. He moves everything aside and uses his finger to shoot out an ecto-ray, blasting it into tinier shards. Then he takes a sheet of aluminum foil, covers one of the openings to an old kitchen pipe, ties it to the pipe with a broken rubber band, pours the shards into the pipe and uses his lighter to burn the aluminum, placing the opposite opening to his mouth. He closes his eyes, inhaling the stale scent of absolute poison. He holds it in and blows it out, waiting to feel that same high.

But it doesn't come.

So he puts it back to his lips, taking another hit.

Again, he gets the same effect: nothing.

"Fuck," he mutters. "FUCK!" He throws the pipe all the way across the room. It hits against the door and completely shatters, shards of glass running amok. He sighs and sits down, his back resting against the shelves. His high was wearing off; reality was finally surfacing. He had realized everything he had done in the course of the past seven months. Trying the drug for the first time, swearing it would be his only. Slashing at his skin. Needing more. Attacking his friends. _Raping_ his girlfriend. Stealing her money. Still needing more. Running off into the distance, away from family, away from safety. Getting into trouble. Sacrificing his name.

And now here he was, at a dead end, still chasing his tail.

He shook, placing his hands on his biceps in an attempt to encase his body warmth. _I'm cold,_ he thought, shriveled up with internal cries. _I'm so fucking cold._

And he had no money, nowhere to go. He had no place to feel safe.

He had thrown everything away, had tossed everything down the drain, all for his addiction.

An addiction he thought he'd befriend.

He was panting hard, sweating consistently, losing every ounce of himself that he had left. He was clutching onto reality in hopes to just hold on, even if it were just for one more night. But he knew he was alone. He was lost and afraid. He was more than that-far beyond.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand where he fell off so far. He promised himself-promised everyone-just one hit, and then no more. He swore it would only be a way to cope. Meth was supposed to be his friend-his other half. It was supposed to make him feel better. And as he ran a weak hand through his now thin hair, all he could ask himself was: "what have I done?"

There was nothing worse than crashing. Nothing worse than coming down from that high. When the lights turn on, you see everything for how it is. You see everything you didn't when everything was still dark. Danny didn't want to see; he wanted to be blind. But he knew that he had to.

The truth hurt.

And he realized there was no escaping this.

Looking to the left, he saw a hard plastic rope laying behind a metal shelf, decorated with bottles of chemicals. He slowly got to his hands and knees and crawled over to it, picking it up and straightening it out. Within the space between the shelves and the wall was an area big enough to fit the width of a human body.

And towards the ceiling was a broken fragment, an exposed pipe in its place.

Danny knew what he had to do.

…

Sam returned to his room. Even though she knew it was the wrong thing to do, to surround himself in everything that involved him, she needed to find relief in the old him. To believe that he could still return to his true self.

She closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Everything was still the way he left it since last time she was there. The posters were still up. The pictures were still hung. The bed was still messy. The clothes were still scattered.

It was as if Danny himself never changed.

She found, precisely, his cell phone laying on his pillow. She picked it up, unlocking the screen to reveal that it still had battery life. She didn't know how; she didn't even question it. The home screen wallpaper had a picture of him and Sam, long before his addiction. It hurt her to look at it, but at the same time, it was the only thing left of him that gave her peace. She had seen a recently added file dated six months ago in his notification tab. Toggling it down and tapping on it, it took her to his voice memos. It was a two minute long audio file. She hit 'Play' it let it run.

Danny's voice was weary and depressed over the speaker.

" _Ok, so… I don't really know how to say this, so… I guess I'll just say it._

 _Mom, Dad, if you find this, well… obviously it'll be long too late. But the reason why I've been so isolated and reclusive and whatnot is because… for the past four weeks, I've been… well, I've been using meth. And I know that you don't believe it, but it's true, and I'm sorry to say it. I tried it only once; it was supplied to me by a kid at my school. I promised myself only once but… no, it wasn't. Not even once. I've used it more times than I can keep count anymore. I know that this breaks your heart and I'm so sorry for that. I've let you down and… to be honest, if you disowned me… I wouldn't blame you._

" _Anyway, the reason why I'm even recording this is because… I'm addicted. I've been craving it since I've tried it. And I know what it will do to me… I know who it will turn me into… but I can't stay away from it. I can't get help; no one will understand. I'll apologize in advance because… I will do unquestionable things, things that I'll have no control of. I want to apologize to you and dad for letting you both down, and for disappointing you. I want to apologize to Tucker because he's always been a good friend, and I know that if he gets involved-if he tries to stop me-he could end up dead. And I want to apologize to Sam. Sammy… I love you so much."_

At this point, Sam couldn't control the tears from falling down her face.

" _I love you so, so much. And I should've listened. When I talked to you… on the phone… listen I want you to know that this isn't your fault Sam. It isn't your fault. It's not your responsibility to stop me. I should've trusted my judgement and walked away. But it's too late to do anything now, and I know that. I don't deserve you Sam. How am I supposed to be there for you when I can't even be there for myself? One day, you'll find a man that will be there for you more than I ever could. Who will marry you… and give you beautiful children… and it's clear that I can't be him. I let you down Sammy… I let everyone down. I'll always love you guys… all of you guys."_

The voice recording stopped.

Sam let the phone drop onto his pillow. Then, with a heavy heart, she sunk to the ground, mouth agape, eye watered… and began to weep.

…

"Will you please start off with your name?"

"Samantha Manson."

The detective pressed the pen to the paper, scribbling something down before looking back up at her.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 16."

"And how were you in relation to the Daniel?"

Her breath hitched slightly, but she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, catching the tears that were ready to fall.

"I was his girlfriend."

…

Placing his foot on the edge of the metal shelf, he raised his neck to the noose, looping it around his neck. While gripping onto it, he saw what looked like a teardrop fall onto the nail of his index finger. He wiped his eyes, realizing that he had been doing something he hardly ever does.

He had been crying.

Not because he felt like he had no other way out.

Not because he felt like this was his only option.

Not because he let all of his loved ones down.

But because he was ending the life of the new him, the damaged him, the broken him, and rebirthing his old self, finally getting room to breathe. Finally being like he always was growing up: a kid. But this time, he'd be an angel, no longer in pain, no longer suffering from the lock in his mind. No longer having the responsibilities that he had. No longer being an anchor for the ship of his family and friends.

Now, he could just float.

And he knew that in the end, this would kill them. But at this point, it wasn't about what they wanted; it was about him.

With a hard gulp, after licking his dry lips, he very faintly, as if trying not to wake the dead, whispered:

"Forgive me."

And, without a second of hesitation, he dropped down from the shelf.

…

"...So Daniel told you about what he was planning on doing, and you never said anything to stop him?" the detective adjusted his tie, which had been loosening up more and more as the day went about. "Why not?'

Sam's breathing began to deepen. "I don't know… I don't know," she repeated. "I guess I just speechless. I didn't know what to say! I could've said no, but… he would've done it anyway, I'm assuming. No one else was there to stop him from it."

"So you didn't feel as if there had been any point in doing so, is what you're saying?"

"No, of course not! I'm saying that even if I did say something to stop him… who's to say he wouldn't have just done it anyway? I don't understand why I'm being questioned right now. Have you found him?" Her eyes lit up and she flew into a standing position so fast, her chair wobbled back and forth. "Is he here-right now, in this building?!"

Rubbing his temples, the detective let out a deep sigh. "No… uh, Ms. Manson… you might want to sit down for this."

Then, as quickly as she rose to her feet, she planted her butt back down onto the chair. "What's going on?"

"I don't… I don't know how to tell you this… but I don't want to just…" he shook his head, leaning in and taking her hands into his. "Samantha… Daniel's dead. He was found at an old gas station on Sample, the backroom, with a makeshift noose around his neck."

The young girl was choked up, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She shook her head, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her best friend since second grade, her boyfriend since sophomore year, the boy who had forever promised his love to her…

Was dead.

And she couldn't do anything to stop it.

She buried her head in between her arms, trying her hardest not to vomit. Trying her hardest to blink away the tears.

But they fell ever so silently from her eyes.

For once, the detective felt hopeless. He put a hand on her wrist, patting it gingerly.

"I'm sorry Ms. Manson. I wish there was something that I could do."

"Can I have moment alone?"

Briskly, the detective nodded, and he stood up, exiting the room. It was then that Sam's cries began to turn into deep sobs. She felt like she couldn't breathe, her cries were silent. Her lungs were deprived of oxygen. She couldn't believe he was dead, and despite everything that's happened, she still loves him.

She always did.

And now he was gone.

…

A slight chill was coming in. Winter was coming much faster than everyone expected. The leaves had long fallen from the trees, and were traveling in all directions amongst the grass. The sky was darkening with clouds; the surrounding environment was dreary, like what you'd see in a tragedy.

Sam snuggled closer into her black jacket, tightening her grip on the stems of the white roses. With a sunken heart, she dragged her feet towards the tombstone, exhaling deeply.

It's been two years, and it still didn't seem real. She read the engravement over and over again in her head, trying to register everything, but nothing would process. It was hard to believe how much time had flown over the years. It was harder to believe that he was gone. She eyed the deep slashed lines over the tombstones that were carved over the letters. That was way back when. She knew it was wrong, but she was angry.

She dropped to her knees, placed the flower on the cement and sat there for a brief second before rising to her feet again. A tear escaped her eyes, and she balled her sleeve up to her knuckles, wiping it away.

"I'm sorry, Danny, for defacing your grave all that time ago. I was angry… not just at what you had done to me, but what you had done to yourself."

All she heard in response were the caws of the crows.

"Me and Brandon are pretty happy. He's going away to Stanford and… I got accepted into Harvard. I'm leaving Danny… for veterinary assistance. It's not much but…" she shivered, but it was no longer because of the cold. She snatched up one of the roses and aggressively picked the petals off of it, throwing them stem at the tombstone in frustration. "I wanted it to be you, Danny! I strived for a future with you-I had plans for all of these places for us to go-and you went along and fucked them up with this _bullshit!_ We were supposed to end up together in the end Danny! It was supposed to be about us! And then you raped me… you took away my dignity, my only hope I had left to have children! _You've taken everything from me…_ including you."

She keeled over, shriveling up and fighting to hold back every ounce of pain that had broken through the surface for so many years. She was in too much pain to count.

All there was left were memories and pictures.

All fragments of him have long disappeared.

She sniffed. "All I do is blame myself now, Danny." Eyes bloodshot, she looks up at his name.

 _DANIEL JAMES FENTON_

 _SEP. 13, 1998 - OCT. 10, 2013_

 _BELOVED SON, BROTHER AND FRIEND_

"Why?" she whispers softly. "Why didn't I just say no?"

A leaf fell on her shoulder.

The sun was beginning to set.

…

 **It took me like a year to write this story, but it was totally worth it. Please educate yourself on the dangers of meth, and reach out to those who are dealing with the addiction. Give them the help and support that they need to get better. Love them dearly and never take them for granted.**

 **That goes for anyone; you never know which day will be their last.**

 **PleaseR &R,**

 **Vivalandra**


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